


The terror begins

by Prowl_Fan



Series: Who is Italy? [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-21
Updated: 2012-06-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prowl_Fan/pseuds/Prowl_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Italy is not who he pretends to be. Under the mask of an annoyingly cheerful man, lies a stone-cold killer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The terror begins

Italy was pleased. And that was something he rarely was anymore. Germany had finally agreed to come over to his house. That meant it was time, and he could finally give up this foolish charade. He quickly added the serum he planned on using to the ingredients in his cupboard just as the doorbell rang.   
Italy raced to the door, and summoned his goofy alias. The door sprung open and words bubbled from Italy’s mouth,  
“Hi, Mister Germany!”  
“Hello Italy,”   
The reply was sullen and grouchy. Italy had to fight hard not to frown, or let his smile dim. What gave that Bastard the right to be the slightest bit annoyed? He hadn’t given up years of his life, changed the manner of his entire being, or lived a lie for over sixty-four years. But he had to keep the lie up, if just on more evening. He hoped it was just one more evening. So he forced himself to hug the blond haired man, and squealed,   
“I’m so glad you’ve come, Germany!”   
It was true, but not in the way the German probably thought.   
“Yea, me too,”  
He seemed distracted, probably because he was looking around the house. Italy’s house started at a short hallway, which opened up to the living room. There were three doors in the living room, the two open ones led to the kitchen and dining room.   
Italy invited Germany to sit on the couch.  
“I’ll go make us some pasta, Germany!”  
Italy popped up and tried to go to the kitchen, but Germany stopped him, grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the couch,  
“Nein, Italy. Nein”  
He seemed tired, but Italy didn’t really care. He considered sneering at the German and taking him then and there, but then he regained his composition. He only had to hold on for a bit longer. All he needed was somewhere where he could be alone; somewhere he could be himself, if only for a second. An idea came to Italy,  
“Germany, I have to use the bathroom,”  
He left, not bothering to explain where that was. Italy went down into the basement, and made sure all of the equipment he would need later was cleaned, polished, and where it needed to be. Then he took in the deepest breath he could, and squealed as loudly as he could manage.  
In a flash, Germany was there. Italy forced himself to smile as if he was being saved from something. Germany hauled him upstairs, and Italy thought up what he would say to get what he needed to.  
“Germany, there was this huge rat, and it was on me and-“   
Crocodile tears sprang from the corners of Italy’s eyes, and Germany’s reply was instantaneous,  
“I-I’ll find it for you” He murmured,   
And Italy smiled, pretending to be grateful. Germany set him on the couch, and promised to find the rat. The fool. As soon as he went downstairs, Italy got off the couch and started to make some pasta. He was almost done.  
Hours later, Germany walked back upstairs, not having found it. Italy added the serum to the pasta, and prepared a bowl for Germany. Now was the time.  
“Hey, Germany, I made you something special…”  
Germany sat down on the couch, and Italy gave him the bowl. He eagerly watched, a smile plastered to his face, as the man took a single bite. That’s all he really needed. Italy allowed the smile to fall from his face, and he scowled at the blond haired German.  
“Vat’s wrong, Italy?”  
One side of Italy’s mouth rose, and he sneered as the idiot convulsed, the poison in the food did its work. Germany groaned with the pain, and fell to the floor. Italy watched him a moment, and reveled in his pain. Then he started kicking the silent form that shook violently as it suffered the effects of the poison. Italy’s face was entirely serious, no hint of a smile on his lips.   
Beaten black and blue, Germany looked up at the cruel face of the man he had thought he knew as the world faded to black swirling dots. One last thought plagued his mind,  
‘Who was Italy really?’


End file.
